This starry dawn – the wise men yet afar – br the shepherds are abed, their night’s task done. br Is Mary tired? Or, as one untouched? br All birth’s a miracle; no less this one. br br The cattle have bestirred at hint of morn, br the thought of feeding making moist their muzzle; br straw is rustling as they, manger-drawn, br find unfamiliar form – so warm – to nuzzle.